Apollo's Lyre
by Lonely Looney
Summary: A merry ballerina with a tragic story and a sad genius with a tragic past. It's a match made in heaven. Is it the reason why they are that drawn to each other? What happens when secrets surface? A small fluffy to brighten every phans day. EOW/EOC. Leroux with a seasoning of Kay.
1. I

Chapter I -

 **"A man dressed entirely in scarlet, with a huge plumed hat perched over a death's head mask. And a very fine simulation of a human skull it was too! The art students who had gathered round turned him into a great success. They congratulated him, asked which designer, which master-craftsman, who clearly had Pluto, King of the Underworld, as a customer, has conceived, made and painted such a magnifcent death's head! The Grim Reaper himself must have posed for it.**

 **The figure with the death's head, the feathered hat and the scarlet costume wore an immense cloak of red velvet which trailed behind him and spread like a fiery royal train over the floor. And on this cloak, were embroidered in letters of gold these words: 'Make way, for I am the Red Death.'"**

Then, someone _did touch_ him, for Erik's surprise. _"They would feel the furious grasp of Red Death!"_ , he thought, with all his indignation and ire.

But Erik heard a feminine whisper _"come!"_ , with a grasp far more potent than his, pulling him far from the crowd, and fast.

It was a Nymph, _literally._ A woman wearing a Nymph's costume. Erik blushed. He was at the party to crash and shock and a Nymph from hell pulled him by the wrist for no reason.

Besides, now he had lost track of Christine.

"I'm sorry about my rudeness. And I can't speak French. Yet! _Messieur_."

Her accent was precarious at best.

"And I don't suppose you'll ever learn. What do you want from me? Language lessons?", replied Erik, with flawless English.

"Well, I... You're English?"

"No, I'm French.", he was bored. "I insist, mademoiselle, what do you want?"

"You are rude, after what I did for you. Your English is flawless!"

The party ran with fun and happiness all around them and people stopped paying attention to Erik. But men, more often than not, asked to dance with the Nymph.

"And what, pray, have you done for me?"

She sighed.

"People are too dumb to realize. This is no painting. I love Edgar Allan Poe as much as the next person, but you came unmasked."

Erik, who was already ten deep shades of pale, flushed more scarlet than his outfit. He was more than puzzled as to how a woman could react thus to his appearance. She couldn't be normal.

"Mademoiselle, I don't know what you're—"

"Name is Melissa. Melissa Hart.", she extended her hand.

Which he didn't shake.

"All right, say I did such an imbecile thing. Why did you care?"

"Because I know what is like to be a stranger. I've always wanted to be a prima ballerina. At Opera Populaire. I've always been the best for that. And always, always, always rejected due to the language barrier. But when they finally saw how many fouéttes I can execute..."

"But why not learn French?"

"I didn't have much time. And actually... I'm not a quick study. In certain things."

"Oh. It's fine.", he smiled. "There's no shame in being stupid. Or perhaps, there is."

"Oh, a smile _and_ a joke! From my favorite _teacher_!"

"Wait... _teacher_? We haven't talked about that. I'm not taking students. Unless you want Music lessons."

"You know _Music_?! What else can you do?"

"It's a bad thing to brag..."

"Tell me now! Then tell me your name!"

"I'm a Ventriloquist, Musician, Arquitect, I can speak more languanges than I can count, I built this very Opera."

"Wait... You built the Opera?!"

"Well, not with my very hands, but my project was comissioned."

"Wasn't it Charles Garnier's?"

"It got it under his name."

" _Why_? You would be a wealthy man now! Unless you are. And married, too! _Unless you are_."

Erik stared at her, discomfitted. A skinny, tall girl, with long dirty blonde hair, full lips, brown eyes... She couldn't possibly be flirting with him.

"Talk to the Persian and ask him to tell you all about our adventures. His name is Nadir and nobody knows. Don't spread.", he gave a small laugh.

"I didn't ask his name, I asked yours."

Erik was standing, puzzled.

"Why?"

"Why? Because, what should I call you? 'Hey, you!'?"

He laughed, in spite of himself.

"Why are you even talking to me?"

"I think you are... _irrévérencieux_?"

Erik guffawed holding his flat belly.

"I still don't know your name.", Melissa complained.

He bit his meager lower lip.

"Erik."

She kept staring, seeming expectant.

"Just Erik.", he finished.

"So, 'Just Erik', where do you live? Do you have a family?"

"Why, I...", he flushed, again. "I live here. I don't have a family."

She went out with him arm in arm, for his mortification.

"So, tomorrow, after rehersals, you can go to my dressing room _discreetly_ to teach me French! Three times a week, how about it?"

"No! We hadn't agreed on- -"

"Or", she lifted her index finger, "it could be on your house! I'll bring food!"

"Twice a week and it's a deal!"

"Deal.", she extended her hand again.

He was so hesitant. His hands were calloused, bony and for the lack of nutrition on his system, cold.

And she felt all that, stoically.

Or rather, not so.

"There will be food twice a week and you'd better eat. Or I'll tell everyone you were not wearing a mask."


	2. II

Chapter II –

Since the Masked Ball, Christine hadn't seen Erik. She counted two weeks on her fingers.

She should be happy, right?

Raoul decided not to go on the Expedition and take her away, but all she could think about was...

 _"Where is Erik?"_

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"If you can sing, sing something for me. You never do, and have such a beautiful voice.", said Melissa to Erik. Both were in her Dressing Room, where he was supposedly, teaching her French. But they were eating cheese and éclairs and drinking a lot of wine. And Erik was not allowed to wear his mask in there.

"How do you know I have 'such a beautiful voice'?", he said, a little drunk.

"Because I can hear you talk. Come on. Sing for me. Please.", she moaned.

"En Français, Melissa. En Français."

"No problem, you can sing in French, too."

He rolled eyes. It felt even uglier with all those mirrors reflexing him.

"Why do you torture me like this?"

"If I give your mask back, will you sing?"

"I most certainly will not, you impudent creature!"

She rose from her bed, where she was sitting and he observed from the stool on the boudoir and she lit a match and burned the silk mask.

"I have more than this one!" he cried out in outrage.

"I'll burn all of them! Now sing!"

He sat there, sulking.

"I can give you more wine...", she held him, and his breath caught. She was _so_ close to his face. He could feel her warm breath on his cheek. Why would she do that? He had never been so happy not to be wearing a mask. All he had to do was to turn around and make it look like it had been an accident... And their lips would- -

But what would be her reaction to a _corpse_? She would probably vomit. He just stood still, with tears protuding from his eyes.

"Erik! Are you... feeling all right?"

There, she had left him alone.

"Yes, I'm fine.", he dried his traitor tears rapidly. "I'll sing for you."

"Oh, thank you!"

He took a deep breath. And used the energy he felt at that moment.

But for Melissa... It was different.

She saw her Mother, playing with her as a child, before the cancer took her. Then saw her Mother still alive, in dinners, seeing her as a Débutant, helping her to choose dresses, laughing at her beaux, eating pâtisseries, because that's what her life should have been, as much as she loved ballet.

 _As much as she now had found a reason to go on._

Melissa fell to the floor on her knees. Erik stopped singing abruptly and went to her aid.

She was sobbing.

"Thank you.", she said while he held her shaking shoulders, "That was more beautiful then I ever expected."

"Are you sure?", Erik asked, kneeled on the floor with Melissa, "You don't seem to be so well-"

And she interrupted him, kissing him full on the mouth.

If Erik had a weak constitution, he would have died right there, right then.

Why had she done that?! He was a monster!

At first yes, Melissa had to confess she had been tied to those Societal conventions... When she had first seen that face with little nose...

Then she saw something more.

Erik, feeling Melissa's full lips on his, the wine pumped through his veins, he felt sensations he couldn't describe and didn't think not to act on them. He was a beast. It was too much to him. Even Melissa could be lost on his impulse if she didn't think of what was happening. Too intense, _too soon_.

"Whoa, hold your horses!", she said, with a smile on her voice, panting.

"I know, I know, sorry.", he was carressing her hair, both on the floor tangled like a couple of lovers. His heart was racing to the point of almost stopping. He wanted to cry, he was so moved.

A woman had touched him.

With desire, passion.

He stood up and helped her and she sat on the bed again.

"Erik, you must know... My Dad is not an easy person. If you want to be with me, he has to approve of you."

Erik lowered his head.

"I'm not talking appearance-wise."

He stared at her, shocked.

"You're asking me to _marry_ you?"

"I'm not! I haven't even seen where you live!"

Erik fidgted.

"You can go within a week! It's a mess, you know."

Melissa smiled.

"Then you meet my Father."

"Deal!", said Erik, nervously with this turn of events.

He kept there, standing. Fidgeting, again.

Melissa smiled, went to him and kissed him.

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Erik went into his house singing "Je veux vivre" from Gounod's "Romeo and Juliet" when a blonde form scared the hell out of him and he gave the ugliest screech.

"Christine! What are you doing here?!"

Her face was tear-stained.

"What am _I_ doing here? _You_ were the one who disappeared!"

He was surprised.

"I'm sorry, Christine, but I know you have a... a lover and are happy with him. I give you my blessing.", he didn't even deign to look at her, hanging his coat.

"What's happening Erik? Why are you not wearing your mask?"

He looked at her, angry and invaded.

"What are you? _My Mother_?"

She felt it like a slap. She remembered the Mother's story.

"You're in love, aren't you? I see the glow in your eyes! Even on your skin! You've even gained weight! Who is she?!", cried Christine.

Erik was indignant.

"You've no right to question me—"

"Oh, but I have _every right!_ Every right to protect all the girls from the _Phantom of the Opera_!"

He posed himself in front of her like a bat.

"You wouldn't dare."

She looked even more menacing.

" _Watch me_."

And she left, clicking her heels matching each pound of Erik's heart.


	3. III

Chapter III –

Two weeks later, between seeing Melissa and preparing his house, Erik had forgotten everything about Christine. Never had he dreamed he could be so fickle. But it was not the case, he admonished himself. _No, it was not the case!_ When he looked at Melissa he felt warm and drunk, like drinking the finest of wines. He had almost ruined Christine, for crumbs of her charity. But Melissa... He never asked for anything, she gave so much, and in earnest!

But whenever she asked about him, he dodged. And he knew now almost everything about her.

She was probably waiting for an opportunity to corner him, and dinner today must be it.

Oh, it would be so special. Erik wasn't much of a cook, an ability he could never master, but he would order food from the best chefs in Paris! He would say romantic things! Play and sing for her! What a night it would be!

He had gotten rid of his coffin. And couldn't stand the sight of his _Don Juan Triumphant._

That song didn't represent him anymore. He saw the glint in Melissa's eyes whenever she was with him and realized she felt longing to be touched by him. "She was definitely not normal", Erik concluded. Her behavior made him uncomfortable in more than one occasion, but he never said anything.

He didn't understand it.

They were running, hand in hand, laughing, like two crazy lovers to Erik's Lake House. He took her by the passage of Rue Scribe.

"Garnier was certainly a genius to build an Opera House on a lake!", she remarked, staring at the darkness of the water by Erik's porch.

"He certainly got smug about it.", said Erik. "But I told you, I built this place. Come in, meet, I mean, see my home!"

He had never been so nervous on his life, stumbling upon words.

She could understand why he lived under the lake. His life must not have been easy.

But there was something amiss.

There was a _woman_ in the living room.

" _Christine!_ ", exclaimed Erik, "Whatever are you doing here? Did something happen?"

She was staring Melissa with blue, glacial eyes.

"Mademoiselle Daae?", inquired Melissa. "I don't believe we have met."

" _Anglais?_ Good, good! I hope, mademoiselle, you know where you are getting yourself into, _oui_?"

"Excuse me?", Melissa was very confused.

"Can't we ' _change'_ to Français?", asked Christine, frustrated.

"No, we can't! And we're definitely _not_ having this discussion in my living-room! You are leaving, Christine, bye-bye!", vociferated Erik, pushing her down the door.

"Bye-bye? _Mais non_! He is dangerous! Insane! All right, I go. _Ne me touchez pas!_ ", Christine was all class, Melissa was utter confusion and Erik, despair.

And with a vindictive smirk, Christine said, before shutting the door:

"Be careful, Mademoiselle."

Soon, Melissa and Erik found themselves alone in the room.

"Would you like to sit?", he pretended.

"What I would like," she started pacing, "Is to understand what that was about! Dangerous, Erik. _Dangerous_! She told me to 'be careful'! What did you do to that girl?"

Erik sighed. Melissa was exasperated.

"If you sit, I'll tell you everything."

She collapsed on the sofa.

"I suffered in life many misfortunes. I know it's no excuse!", he said, when he sensed she was about to interrupt, "But then I started commiting murderers and acquiring taste for it. I built a Maze of Mirrors for the Little Sultana, in Persia, so we could have fun killing freely. Then I got bored, I composed, would comission arquitecture jobs..."

He saw a thing he _never wanted to see_ in Melissa's eyes. _Horror_ and _disgust_.

"Yes, Melissa. My hands know a lot of blood. Innocent blood, guilty blood, you name it. I ran away from home and found some gypsies and they exhibted me as "The Living Corpse". The Owner of the Show tried to abuse of me and then... I accidentally killed him."

"Oh my God, I'm sorry!", said Melissa, showing true kindness and compassion. "But why have you ran away from home? You never talk about your family."

He gave a teary smile.

"Why do you think, Melissa?", he stared at her, very deep, in the face. " _Why_ do you think? My first scrap of clothing was... was a mask!"

He sobbed between his hands.

She held him and kissed his tears from his face.

"You're so good to me. Why?", he asked, even more moved.

"Perhaps some people deserve redemption. Finish the story, Erik."

"Oh, where was I. You know about Opera Populaire. Well, I fell in love with... An ingenue..."

"Don't you fancy yourself a little old to her?"

"It wasn't like that. I just wanted... To be like other people. Have picnics in the park with my living wife. And I would be old to you, too, then."

"I'm older than Christine.", Melissa smiled.

"I don't think your father will agree. But on with the story. I kidnapped her and tormented her after she tore off my mask... I was a demon."

"My, what did you do?!"

"I just gave her a ring, made her my bride and said she wasn't allowed to marry. That at first. I pretended to be an Angel, the Angel of Music, that her father used to say would appear to her someday."

"And how did you know her father said that?"

"Because Christine told me. ' _Are you the Angel of Music? My Father said you would come, I was waiting for you.'_ I said I was."

"Strange, when she came here, she didn't strike me as that gullible...", Melissa's eyes twinkled with mirth. "But you kidnapped her for what? What did you want, or expect?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Erik, you didn't... _rape her_?"

He was outraged.

"God, no! _Never_! We would _marry_! Even if we wouldn't, I would _never_ do that!"

"And then? You would have intercourse?"

Erik flushed tomato red.

"Of course not!", he muttered.

"Then she's better off!", Melissa laid on the sofa.

"So, am I forgiven?", asked Erik, like a child.

"For what? Everyone has a past, Erik. Are you still in love with Christine?"

 _"No!"_

"What is there to eat? You know you eat, I watch... I can't gain weight."

"But Melissa, I... ordered an amazing dinner!"

"You... _ordered_? You can do everything but you can't _cook_?"

"I... don't have a kitchen here.", he blushed.

"All right.", she clapped her hands loudly scaring Erik. "Show me the rest of the house. Then you eat and play for me!"


	4. IV

Chapter IV –

Christine had an extremely dreamy air about her. Raoul couldn't help but to worry. In the Park, while the two lovers roamed freely, he inquired:

"Christine, what is going on?"

She seemed to wake up.

"I do not know what you mean, my love."

They sat on the grass. It was a beautiful sunny day.

"There's something about you...", said Raoul.

Then, he realized.

"The ring! _You are wearing his ring! The monster's ring!_ How could you? You told me you had lost it! Christine!"

She covered her right hand irritably and said:

"This is none of your business!"

"None of my business?!", laughed Raoul, incredulous. "We are about to get married!"

"You gave me no ring!"

"I was going to!", he was almost in tears.

She bit her lower lip and sighed.

"Are people so unhappy when they love?", asked Christine.

"Yes, Christine, when they love and are not sure of being loved."

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Erik was nervous, fidgeting in the fancy carriage, beside Melissa.

 _Today was the day_.

She was free from the Opera for a fortnight and could visit her "Daddy".

What Erik didn't know was that she had declined to warn her Father she was bringing her lover along...

And how could she? Her father was as conservative as a politician. She would be fidgeting as much as Erik, if it were 'elegant'. Regardless, her corset didn't allow.

When Erik visualized the massive gates of the mansion, he felt more than intimidated. There was more to Melissa than what she had told him. She was rich, from the looks of it. _Stinky rich_. He could see cherub sculptures spitting water and found it such a cliché. By analyzing the whole structure, the white Greek columns, the square windows, he found a terrible mix of bad taste. The door was like a castle's and made him cringe.

If only he had been responsible for that project!

"I see you don't like my house.", said Melissa, giving him her arm.

He blushed. Was it that evident?

"Did I say anything? I didn't!"

She smiled.

"Wait till you meet Daddy."

Now, he nearly peed his fancy pants. Hopefully, Melissa had said good things about him.

When a maid opened the door and faced Erik, her eyes nearly popped out of its sockets. But she swallowed hard and proceeded:

"Miss, we didn't know you were bringing a friend. We'll prepare the guest room."

Erik was terrified.

 _'Wait. She didn't prepare them?!'_

"Melissa!", he whispered in a panick.

"Everything is going to be all right. Trust me."

When even she didn't know what to trust.

Then, as if on a cue, a man, gray head and beard, tall and a little overweight, smoking a cigar, came to receive Melissa:

"Oh, if it's not my baby girl!", he held her tight.

Then, he noticed Erik.

And whispered to Melissa:

"Honey, who's this?"

"There's no reason to whisper, Daddy!", Melissa grabbed Erik's shaky hand, "We're together!", she smiled brightly.

Erik was staring at the floor.

"What do you mean, _together_?"

"I mean, well... I mean, we... We are...", Melissa began to lose face.

Her Father became all shades of purple.

"Melissa... On your letters, it didn't occur you to... _tell_ me about this fling of yours? With this... ' _different_ ' person?"

" _Daddy_! It is _not_ a fling! It is for real! I love him!"

Erik's heart almost stopped.

"And has he already compromised your honor? Do you have to marry a soldier in a hurry, or-"

"Daddy!", Melissa started crying.

"Look, sir, there's no need to humiliate your own daughter.", Erik found his voice.

"Oh, so he talks! How old are you, _sir_? How long have you been with my baby?"

"Daddy..."

"I'm 50. And she's not a ' _baby_ '."

"Really? I am 55. And she is _my_ baby."

Melissa was ten shades of red. And so was Erik.

"I'm sorry we fell in love. Sorry it bothers you, sir.", said Erik, in a clipped tone.

"Yes! Yes, it bothers me exceedingly!", shouted Melissa's father. "And stop calling me 'sir'! You are as much 'sir' as me! _Sir_!"

Melissa couldn't help it. She started laughing out loudly and just wouldn't stop.

"You two are pathetic!", she said, with tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

"Excuse me, sir.", a small maid came walking to the lounge. Lunch is served."

"I wonder who she's talking to!", Melissa resumed her laughter.

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After lunch, Melissa's father called Erik to play cards and smoke cigars. Erik coughed till the world's end and was ridiculed by the other, who said a man should drink good brandy and smoke good cigars. But at least, Erik exceled in all the games, annoying Melissa's father.

In the afternoon, Melissa stole Erik for a treat, instead of having the Afternoon Tea in the Mansion. But when Erik saw the carriage was approaching the Park, he panicked.

"Melissa, if we're going to a public place, let me put on my mask!"

"You went to my house and my servants saw you. What's the difference?"

He couldn't rationalize that. Neither could he rationalize why she was taking him to the Park, of all places. His mind was clogged.

They got there fast. He tried not to pay attention if there was someone staring. There probably was.

"That's a good spot!", said Melissa, and she had a basket.

"We're about to have a picnic? Amidst all this people?"

She was extending the quadriculated towel.

"You yourself told me that you wanted to be 'like everyone else'. Right?"

He took a deep breath.

And sat on the towel.

"I'm just not hungry..."

"You are going to eat everything I give you."

He moaned in protest.

"Why do you feed me like a _gras_?"

She didn't deign to give a reply.

While Erik ate as much as he could, they talked. For his surprise, he was really enjoying himself.

"...and it was very traumatic for Daddy.", Melissa continued the conversation. "Mother loved that house, she said it had so many 'motifs'. I found it dreadful, like a mix of many works of art, but in bad taste. And massive. When I get married, I want to live in the country."

Erik was biting a sandwich and his mouth was full, but he talked anyway.

"Then we'll live in the coutry."

She looked at him astonished.

"Are you saying you would marry me?"

"Of course! Who else?"

He kept eating the sandwinch while there was a silence he didn't realize.

"What about Christine Daae?"

He was caught off guard.

"What about her?"

"If she finally threw herself at your feet, would you still marry me?"

He got another sandwich and didn't even think to reply.

"Of couse I would. It's you I love. Christine was a mistake of my past."

And, with his unnocupied hand, he touched her hair.

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All servants were asleep at this hour. Everyone was. Melissa had forgotten her pitcher. She would go to Erik's room just for a drink of water.

 _That's it. It was just for a favor._

When she left her room, the first thing she saw were blazing eyes in the darkness. She almost screamed. GOD! What were those eyes? Then, a hand she knew well, but it was not cold anymore, covered her mouth.

"Shush, Melissa, it's me!"

"Erik! What the hell are you doing, lurking in the darkness?", she shoved him.

Erik always had a surprise. Now he had cat's eyes.

"I was... exploring the house. I wanted to see what it was like inside."

Her eyes had accustomed to the darkness and the gas lamps burned slightly, so she could see better. He wasn't lying.

But now... The way he was looking at her... His blazing eyes seemed to be golden, almost on fire.

And she was wearing but a flimsy silk nightgown, very diafanous.

The hunger in his eyes...

Well, wasn't that what she wanted? She knew she didn't want a pitcher. And deep inside, she knew he wasn't interested in the house interior decour.

She kept there, open mouthed, breathing, just waiting for him to pounce.

But he turned around to leave.

 _What_?

She pulled his right arm and kissed him aggressively. If someone woke up, that was that. A hunger like no other was consuming both, and they couldn't even get to the bedroom to create their symphony. He possessed her eagerly against the wall and Melissa tried to stifle her cries.

It had been the most epic thing that had ever happened to her.


	5. V

Chapter V –

They were magical days for Erik and Melissa. During lunch, she touched his feet under the table with the tip of her slippers and he smiled to himself in contentment. They made picnics every day. Her father was so fed up with it he was about to protest, but when he saw her so happy, he gave up.

And then, it was over.

Days went by and a selection for the part of Clara in The Nutcracker was announced. Erik was in Melissa's dressing-room with a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

"What is that for?", she laughed.

"To celebrate your success.", he said, popping the cork and serving.

"The selection hasn't even happened yet. Isn't it bad luck?"

"Oh, don't say things like that. I know it will be fine."

"You have too much confidence in me."

Then, she saw it. A ring. Shining. Inside the bubbling champagne flute.

"Oh my God!", she started crying.

"Will you marry me? And I already knew your precise reaction."

"That's not amusing! I could have swallowed it! Of course I will!", she exclaimed, running to his arms. Sweet champagne.

And about the confidence he had... He had too much confidence, but in himself.

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The results were out. And Melissa knew, she just _knew_ she had been chosen for the main part, because she had been outstanding.

But when she saw the announcement...

 **Clara – Meg Giry**

That was impossible. She hugged and congratulated Meg like all the others, but she knew Meg had neither the skills nor the technique. Should she talk to the Managers?

"We all would make an apology card to you, since you are in Sorelli's place and is like a big sister to us", interveneed Little Jammes.

Melissa's French had really improved. Despite the good time they spent together, Erik actually taught her.

"But you didn't get the part because it is well known and said, or either, rumor has it, you are in liaison with the Phantom of the Opera.", said a Ballet Rat.

"And he killed Joseph Buquet, brought down the chandelier, kidnapped Christine Daae, he caused all sorts of misfortunes to the Opera!", then Meg squeaked, "Say, you're _engaged?_ What is that ring dangling from your neck? Is it a _secret_? Is he rich, eh, a baron?"

Melissa rolled eyes.

"Tell me more about this Phantom, Meg.", asked Melissa.

Meg gave a deep breath.

"I knew it was a lie. Nobody knows much about the Phantom. Only Christine Daae has actually seen him and brags about it, but doesn't say a lot. I heard he has many heads, one for each occasion, especially one of fire..."

Melissa laughed without meaning to.

"Laugh at your will! But we all know one thing: he looks like Death itself!"

At that, Melissa blanched. It looked like she would faint. She needed to hold on to something, or she would fall...

"Melissa, are you feeling faint? Is it the part? I don't want it! I can't dance it, I can give it to you, gladly."

So, Christine Daae was behaving like a jealous lover suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, her fiancé was the Phantom of the Opera and she was a fool.

"No, Meg dear, you take the part and you practice for it till your feet bleed, promise?", she held the girl's shoulders with tears in her eyes.

"Promise.", Meg looked into Melissa's brown eyes with her jet black eyes also full of tears.

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Melissa invaded Erik's house practically roaring. He was reading, peacefully.

"You bastard! How could you have!"

She ripped the cord around the neck and gave back the ring.

"What is this all about?", inquired Erik, confused.

"You are the Phantom of the Opera! _You_! And you never told me!"

He got up from the loveseat, dropping the book and protested:

"Of course I did!"

"When?"

There was then, a silence.

"I forgot to mention, I'm sorry! But I meant to!"

She sighed.

"I believe you."

"Oh, good!", he smiled, such a pure and clean smile even Melissa forgot why she was angry.

"Not so fast! I don't mean to rub salt to the wound, I mean, to _my_ wound, but you do realize Christine is in love with you, right?"

He gave a small laugh and looked at her as if she was delirious.

"Excuse me?"

"And this is where your dreams come true? Well, at least you have a Diamond of a thousand or something carats to give her, since I gave it back to you. Good-bye."

"Melissa, wait! Please, don't go! I'll do anything!"

"You want _two_ women? That won't do, Erik."

"I want _you_. I'm aware of what Christine has been doing. I just hoped it wouldn't come to that. I thought... thought she hated me."

Melissa held him intimately.

"Why would anyone hate you?"

"Would you like to see my bedroom? I repainted it.", he smiled.

"I highly doubt it."

"Me too.", he said, carrying her inside.

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 _Mrs. Managers,_

 _I will warn only once. There are innocent ones and there are guilty ones. Wasting a talented person due to rumors or unfounded suspicion is utter stupidity. The new ballet will become a mess and another accident might happen, should Mlle. Hart not be placed in the part of Clara._

 _Your obedient servant,_

 _O.G._

"And the Phantom of the Opera strikes again!", exclaims Richard. "Only now he took a fancy for a ballet girl!"

"He knows how to choose, I tell you that, Firmin.", said Moncharmin. "Do you think we should acquiesce this time? Again?"

"All the times we haven't acquiesced and have been incredule, disgraces happened. Let this girl dance, Armand. After all, she was the one who did the best. Meg Giry was bellow the average."

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Melissa and Meg had become friends during those cold days of autumn. Someone knocked on Melissa's door and gave her a paper. He left and she read.

"Meg! Read!"

Meg read sitting on the bed, and her eyes widened.

"But I thought they made those official amongst everyone! I guess the prima-ballerina is the first to know, then!"

Meg ran to hold Melissa.

She was free.

Melissa would be Clara.

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During the weeks of rehersals, Melissa barely had time to see Erik. It was so time consuming she could fall asleep on her feet if she didn't have other duties to perform.

Erik probably was aware, since he had disappeared.

One of these days, she was stretching in her dressing-room when someone knocked.

 _'Erik!'_ , her heart leapt.

But Erik never had to knock, he entered through secret passageways.

"Enter!", she said.

"You sound disappointed. Were you waiting for someone in particular?"

It was Christine Daae.

Melissa smirked.

"I was waiting for an Angel."

Christine didn't seem to like it.

"So he told you. What else did he tell you?"

"Look, Christine, we don't know each other very well... But I'm sure you are nice. And so am I.", she smiled, warmly.

This disarmed Christine.

"He hurt me _so_ much! He scared me _so_ much!", Christine ran to the other woman's arms, in tears. "And I can't seem to stop thinking of him! I'm sorry!"

Melissa carressed Christine's cornsilk hair.

"It will be all right..."

" _Christine?!_ ", said a male voice.

"Erik?", both girls entoned.

"Erik, whatever are you doing here?", asked Melissa, still holding Christine.

"I came to see you. I've been busy with a project. What is wrong with Christine?"

" _You_ are wrong, Erik! You!", Christine pointed her finger at him.

"I'm sorry, Christine. If you can ever forgive me..."

"No! No! I never will! You made me sing like a siren! You showed me the power of the Music! You are inteligent, experient, clever! But Raoul, he is but a _boy_! Boring!"

"Christine, don't say anything you might regret-", Erik started, nervous.

"You scared me so much with your hystericals! But to her, to _her_ to you give even a ring!"

Melissa grunted and left the dressing-room shutting the door.

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After these afternoon rehersals, Melissa had a bath and decided to go straight to bed. What else could she do?

But Erik was there.

"Whatever you have to say, talk fast."

He grabbed her and kissed her.

"This isn't going to work forever, Erik."

"Yes, it is. You're still wearing the ring."

She pushed him and he moved slightly.

"You smug bastard! What did you talk about?"

"I begged her forgiveness. Christine likes when I... grovel. She forgave me, in the end."

"You may have deserved that. Come on. Lick my shoes."

He laughed.

"You're not wearing shoes. But I would grovel for you anythime."

"You'd better. Just for me.", she held him and felt his heart hammering.


	6. VI

Chapter VI –

Melissa was not nervous at all when it was her turn to dance with the Nutcracker Prince. The people of Paris applauded with gusto. She danced like a fairie, and when it got to the Snow Flakes part, everyone had tears in their eyes.

And someone, with those customary blazing eyes, watched her eagerly from Box 5.

Erik was so proud.

The first rose after the show ended was thrown on the stage by him.

When she entered her dressing room, he was there of course, and she threw herself into his arms.

"How was it?", she asked for his opinion.

"You were... ravishing!", then he blushed, by his boldness. She smiled at him. "Astonishing, I mean!"

They kissed, passionately. But he heard some white noise approaching and broke the kiss, leaving by some secret passageway without a warning.

"No! Erik...", moaned Melissa.

Suddenly, a swarm of ballerinas burst into Melissa's dressing-room.

" _Melissa! Melissa! Oh, Melissa!"_

She didn't even know most of them!

"You were amazing!", said a girl she knew the name was Joanne.

"Really worth of the part!", cried out Meg.

Melissa was dead on her feet.

"Aw, look, she's falling asleep! Let's leave her be! Bye Mel!", said Little Jammes.

 _'Mel?'_ , thought Melissa.

And fell on her bed on her tutu and all, so tired she was.

She dreamed peacefully of success and romance because the voice of an Angel sang in her dreams...

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Never could anyone imagine that two weddings could happen in the same church, in Paris.

Christine, since she had nothing to hide, chose a luminescent white dress with a tail dragging through the floor and without a corset. The bouquet was of violets.

But the one glowing was Raoul. She was wearing his wedding ring. She had seen her mistake.

The Bestman was Philippe, holding the rings.

But there was a disturbing element in the room. A skull that reminded of Death.

But the other bride was also glowing, while walking through the aisle. How could there be such a disparity? Her hair was shining, her dress was champagne in color, with a tight corset and intricate brocades. The bouquet seemed to be jamines and for the surprise of all, the Bestman was The Persian. Who else would it be?

The Father was somewhat nervous.

"Dearly beloved, we are here gathered to unite these couples in Holy Matrimony. They will say their own vows."

Christine started.

"Raoul... I know we had a rough start... Mostly because of me", she started crying, "But you should know, there is no one in this world that love you more. I'm so sorry for everything I put you through. I love you, more than anything!"

"Oh, Christine! If you give me the chance, I'll make you the happiest woman alive! I've loved you since I laid eyes on you. And that will never change. You are... my Angel."

While both cried, the Priest told Philippe to give them the rings. They changed rings tearily and the Father announced:

"You may kiss the bride."

"Raoul unveiled her and kissed Christine in earnest.

"Whoa, calm down, boy!", said Philippe, and everyone in the church laughed.

Now was the time. The Priest was apprehensive.

But Melissa was the one who started.

"Erik... I must admit, when I first saw you at the Masked Ball, I thought we could only be friends, that's all. I was mostly curious. _Never_ could I imagine I would be marrying you. Yes, you can call me shallow. Call me any names you wish. But I love you more than anything you can possibly imagine. All the cliché. I'd break my legs for you. Don't ask me why. If you gain more weight, I might. (everyone laughed). Thank you for being you."

People were moved, crying. That had been one hell of a speech.

Erik was silent, looking down, tears rolling down his eyes.

He tried to recompose himself.

"I—I—My life has been a series of misfortunes and only sadness until I met this woman. She is my Muse. When I first met her, she was dressed as a Nymph. So, she is almost there to be my Muse. Father, if I may use your Organ to play something I composed to my wife... I worked on this for months."

Then, Melissa realized Erik was holding a partiture.

"Of—Of course."

"Thank you."

When Erik started to play, Melissa felt the utter _intimacy_ , but people were also mesmerized and hypnotized, for such a heavenly music, filling the whole ambient, creating its own sun. _He was making love to her._ But the others only felt the energy of a huge Red Giant taking the place and couldn't understand the explosion.

Melissa fainted.

"Someone! Help her!", cried the Priest and her father.

"She's going to be fine.", said Erik, sure of it.

Melissa's father looked at him as if he was the devil.

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When Melissa and Erik were finally married, she was refusing to go to the party.

"I'm just tired, I want to go to your house!"

"Why do you want to go to my house, pray? I want to eat! There is so much food in here!"

Melissa laughed.

"Since when do you care about food?"

"Since you introduced me to it. But do not worry. I won't get a potbelly. I eat like a bird."

She laughed even harder.

"I love potbellies. I think you're too flat."

" _Really_? Then I'll eat more!"

Erik disappeared amidst all the temptations.

Melissa sighed and supported herself on a pillar.

"You want him all for you.", a male voice stated.

"Excuse me?"

"I've seen that look. In the mirror. But you're losing for _food!_ Sorry, I'm Raoul De Chagny."

"Oh, hi, I know who you are! Where's Christine?"

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"Good music, Erik.", said Chirstine, indifferently, picking up a tart. "Very... _orgastic_."

Erik flushed rapidly.

"It was from the heart."

"Or not.", she smiled, sassily.

"Christine, do you hate me that much?"

"Yes. No. Yes.", she sighed, "I don't know. I guess I'll never know."

Christine stuffed a lot of food in a napkin and left.

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"Change of plans!", Erik grabbed Melissa's hand, "We are going home!"

"Like that? But I was in the middle of a conversation!"

Erik stopped, nervous.

"It was _her_ , wasn't it? Erik, we are married. She can't still interfere—"

"It's not that!", tears flowed through his lank cheek. "She hasn't forgiven me!"

Melissa hugged him.

"Well, Erik... Sometimes, in life, we do terrible things. And we get to live with them."

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When Erik got to his door, he lifted Melissa up.

"What are you doing? I can walk!"

"I'm nothing if not traditional."

Then, he got her to a room she had never seen. Instead of a coffin, there was a double bed with white satin sheets and fluffy pillows. There were rose petals to show the way and a bucket with champagne on ice on top of a nighstand.

"Oh my God! This is excessive!"

"You'd break your legs for me."

He laid her on the soft bed.

"You know I wouldn't, don't you?", she crowed. "And I still object to this Honeymoon here. You keep a _Torture Chamber._ "

"It was for protection. Erik has never used from the day he met you, nor will use it again. I don't need it anymore. I want to leave this house."

Then he brought his corpse-like mouth close to hers and she didn't mind. She never minded. How she loved him. Every bit of him. He unlaced her corset with tremulous hands, as if it was the first time and she untied the knot on his bowtie. She made him feel sensations he couldn't explain.

And she, the same.

They didn't take all the clothes completely, they couldn't wait for it. But when he penetrated her, Melissa moaned and he could see her small breasts when she moved, it was so... enticing.

They tried to take as slow as possible. The night was long. Promising.

Even for him, who was not that young.


	7. Epilogue

Epilogue – ten years later

Three children were playing when one of them fell and hit her head on a branch on the floor.

"Josette!", cried Christine, running to see her daughter. "Are you all right?"

"It was her fault for not paying attention!", said a very blonde one, Philippe.

"I didn't do anything.", said a little girl, Meg.

Josette cried at her heart's content.

Erik showed up and started to sing. Josette stopped immediately.

"Thank you, Erik! These weekends are the best!", said Christine.

"I beg to differ.", said Raoul, reading newspaper on the porch.

"Hey, don't complain about our country house.", said Melissa.

Melissa's dream had come true. She abandoned everything to live in the country. Plus, she was getting too old to stay as a ballerina.

"Maman, lunch is ready!", a very beautiful girl, black haired, probably in her elevens, called them.

"We all know that when Rachella calls, we must go.", said Melissa.

"I'm not hungry now! I want to take a stroll with Rachella!", said Josette.

They all looked at each other.

Rachella went towards Josette.

"What does my little one want?"

And they went into the meadow.

"I want you to tell me the story of The Angel of the Music. Maman won't tell me anything."

Rachella blanched.

She just gave a musical laughter and said:

"There's no such thing as—"

"I know there is! And there is a Phantom, and an ingenue! The story must be passed through generations, _please, please_ , Rachella! How can you sing like an Angel? And your _father_ as well? It is too much of a coincidence! I hear Maman talking in her dreams and she and Papa fighting about about a ring!"

Rachella stared at the horizon.

"All right. I'll tell. But it dies with you."


End file.
